


Being Susan Pevensie

by MessOfContradictions



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:15:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26234761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MessOfContradictions/pseuds/MessOfContradictions
Summary: There was nothing extraordinary about being Susan Pevensie, except perhaps the grief. A short look at what happened to the oldest Pevensie sister, left behind while the other's went to Aslan's country. One-Shot.
Kudos: 17





	Being Susan Pevensie

No one ever seemed to think about Susan Pevensie. Or when they did, it was merely because she completed a set.

“Glory to the name of the High King Peter, who bravely fought many battles for Narnia and ruled graciously for years.”  
“And to that of the just King Edmund who redeemed himself from treachery to fight for what was right.”  
“And to the compassionate Queen Lucy, for without her faith and belief, the Kings and Queens never would have entered Narnia and overthrown the White Witch.”  
“And there was another one, wasn’t there...oh yes, Queen Susan. I believe she was the one with the horn?” 

There was nothing extraordinary or memorable about being Susan Pevensie. Even if she had been one of the few people from our world to visit Narnia, what had she done really? Wept over the body of Aslan beside her sister? Shot down an apple with her bow? Grown to be beautiful enough to drive foreign kings to war, but not important enough to warrant more than a moment’s thought from her siblings? 

Even the one thing that had made her special--her connection with the land of Narnia--had been taken away from her by time. Perhaps, Susan had thought to herself, she could learn to shine as gloriously in England as her siblings had in Narnia. Certainly our world held more fulfilling things then that imaginary place. As years passed, she had allowed herself to be convinced that no such place as Narnia had ever existed. One simple day, she awoke, having forgotten the last truths of Aslan’s glorious kingdom in the night, and the whole idea now seemed like a dream to her, a foolish childhood game. Maybe it was because she was bitter, that even in a magical realm she seemed so distinctly insignificant. Maybe it was because she desired so badly to be accepted and loved that when her friends and neighbors believed such logical and reasonable things, like the idea that there was nothing inside a wardrobe but clothes, she forced herself to believe it. Whatever the reason, the truth is that Susan refused to remember Narnia. 

There was nothing extraordinary about being Susan Pevensie, except perhaps the grief. No one could imagine the horror of having your entire family stolen by fate in one fell swoop, and not having been there with them. For Susan, who knew nothing of the final battle for Narnia or the journey her loved ones had taken through the stable door, it was entirely unfair for the world to lose such distinctly wonderful people in something as mundane as a train accident. How could Susan Pevensie believe in the magical glory of a place called Narnia, when all the magic had been ripped out of her life? 

As anyone who knew Susan Pevensie would tell you, she was never the same after that day she received that telegram. “Your mother, father, brothers, and sister, along with our son, your cousin, Eustace, were killed yesterday in a train crash near Bristol. Our deepest condolences, Aunt Alberta and Uncle Harold.” Nothing that had given her pleasure beforehand held any meaning now. She lived day-to-day, working for survival and sustenance, never for joy or amusement. She had few acquaintances, and although she may have desired a friend, she never had the courage to make another one. What is the point in loving people, when they can so quickly be stolen away from you? she thought.

As she lived and as she died, there was nothing extraordinary about being Susan Pevensie. She passed from our world as many do, well-aged, and in her sleep. She had lived alone and unremarkably. 

But if you knew the full story, you would agree that the day that Susan Pevensie died was the most extraordinary day of her life. 

Susan knew that she was dead. Death is one of those things that sensible people can understand immediately, especially when one has spent such a great portion of their life thinking about it. The first thing she saw when she stirred was a very large set of paws. As she brought her eyes higher, she found herself gazing upon a magnificent golden lion. And when she looked into the lion’s gleaming amber eyes, every memory from her childhood that she had pushed away or forced herself to forget came flooding back, as colorful and loud and resplendent as ever. 

Feeling much younger and mobile than she had in many years, Susan threw herself down at the lion’s feet. Full of shame and fear she whispered, “Oh Aslan. Can you ever forgive me?” She stared at the ground, not daring to raise her eyes, sure that she was unworthy to ever gaze upon Aslan’s glory again.  


“My dear child,” he responded, in a voice deeper and more calming than should ever be possible, “there is nothing to forgive.” He raised her bowed head up to look at him with a gloved paw, a gave her a large slobbery kiss on the forehead, as only a lion can. 

“But Aslan...I knew. I knew it was all real, somewhere in the heart of me, and I wouldn’t listen. It was just like when I refused to follow you atop the ravine even though Lucy saw you, only worse, much much worse because it went on for years. I should have...I should have been there with Peter and Edmund and Lucy on that train. But I wasn’t. I was off somewhere doing silly things, thinking I was so much more mature than all of them, that I was somehow better off for not believing in Narnia, or for saying I didn’t, and-”

“Oh, Susan! We’re just as much to blame!” rang out a new voice, interrupting her. And before Susan could register anything, she was tackled in a hug. In an instant, she recognized the hands that were wrapped around her, and she began to weep harder than before. After what seemed like an eternity, but not nearly long enough for either of them, the two pulled back, and Susan found herself looking once again at the face of her sister Lucy, wearing a golden circlet and adorned in a silken dress, but looking as young and innocent as the day Susan had lost her. 

And out of the fog stepped two other figures, smiling, but with tears in their eyes, as neither would be ashamed to admit. Susan, pulling Lucy behind her, rushed to embrace her brothers, and sobbing and all speaking over each other, the four siblings collapsed onto the ground in a massive hug.

“We’ve been waiting so very long for you, Su,” said Peter.

“Indeed,” agreed Edmund, “As lovely as it is here, it simply wasn’t complete without you.” 

“It was always meant to be the four of us,” said Lucy, “Nothing really felt right without you here, even if we tried to pretend it did.” 

Susan felt that there were so many things that needed to be said, apologies to be made, forgiveness to be begged, but when she looked into the eyes of her siblings, she knew that they understood, without her having to say a word.  


“So you’ll have me back?” she asked slowly, “With no explanations or questions or anything?” 

“Of course,” Peter said seriously, “Once a king or queen of Narnia-”

“Always a king or queen of Narnia,” finished the other three in chorus. 

And together the kings and queens sat, looking out across the glorious world together, all finally complete, now that they had found each other again. And Susan Pevensie smiled through her tears, overjoyed to finally have come home. And for the first time, she understood how truly extraordinary she was.


End file.
